Deduction of the Heart
by purplehershey
Summary: As Assistant Director of the International Operations Division, Sam Worchester is no stranger to deductive reasoning, but when she meets Emily Prentiss, all logic seems to go out the window. Somehow the stubborn, closed off agent has made it her duty to strip away her carefully created facade, leaving her heart vulnerable and her life at risk. FEMSLASH. OC and Emily Prentiss.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey everyone. I'm trying something new here. This will be a fanfic with a F/F pairing involving Emily Prentiss and an OC, Sam Worchester. I know most people prefer two known character pairings, but I've been thinking about this idea and I figured why not throw it out there? So if you're willing, I have quite the ride set up for you all. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

The days always ended the way they began for Emily Prentiss, with a hot cup of coffee and a carefully concealed issue of Cosmo magazine. Except, of course, when they were in the middle of a case, then her days would bookend with nightmares that didn't seem so different from reality. Which, now that she thought about it, happened much more frequently than the coffee-magazine days…

Okay.

So today, the day began the way it ended, which it didn't usually, but that's not the point. The point is that at 7 a.m. on March 12th, Emily sat at her desk, feet up, eyes glazed over while she secretly absorbed articles from a magazine plastered with titles like "5 Ways to Get a Guy to Notice You" and "The Best Sex you Didn't Know You Wanted to Have."

And that's exactly the moment She walked in.

She. As in tall, blonde, and beautiful. Immaculately dressed and immediately imposing, She entered BAU headquarters with her head held high and her briefcase swinging.

Of course, no one was aware enough to greet her.

Instead, the members of the BAU were all too busy in their own sleep-deprived haze to notice that someone had just walked through that front door. Not to mention someone they'd never seen before. Normally, the group handled long hours like it was a walk in the park, but the most recent case had been the last in a back-to-back-to-back blunder of serial killer after serial killer.

This had all compiled into a month where they had logged an amount of miles equivalent to the previous year. During this month they'd eaten more Chinese food, tracked down more killers and filled out more paperwork in less time than any of them could ever recall.

The result? Exhaustion.

A deep and utter exhaustion that hung behind their eyes and weighed down their bones. And with this exhaustion, came all different techniques of dealing with it. Reid resorted to complicated math puzzles, a mind-numbing and, if he may, kindergarten pleasure. JJ knitted, though covertly under her desk where she thought no one could see her (everyone could see her). Derek scrolled through the latest sports scores, all the while fantasizing what it would be like to actually go to the games instead of watching the results pop up on his screen. Hotch loved his New York Times and Emily Prentiss, as mentioned before, read her Cosmo, no, "Time Magazine" in one hand, a coffee balancing in the other.

Meanwhile, the woman stood in the entrance of the BAU headquarters, listening to the quiet hum of the air conditioner as she observed the scene before her with great precision. Eventually, when and only when she'd gathered what she needed, she began to walk toward Emily Prentiss' desk.

Now, the exact reason for this first move will be heavily debated later on. Some claim that it was the animalistic instinct of attraction that lured her over to the brunette agent's desk first, while others claim it was a tactical move born out of logic and aggression.

But if you asked the woman, Sam her name was, she would tell you it was all because of that Cosmo hidden within the Time binding that intrigued her. That, and the fact that there was just something about the woman holding it.

"Do all FBI profilers refer to Women's Magazines during their jobs?"

"Um, uh…" Emily jumped in her seat, feet thudding to the ground unceremoniously. With a snap shut, she closed the magazine and shuffled around the papers on her desk until it was hidden under a particularly large stack. With a hand resting on her temple, she turned to look at the woman who had caught her in her most vulnerable moment. "No, not usually."

"Ah." The woman raised her eyebrows, a smirk hiding under layers of sternness, "so then I happened to find the only one who does? Lucky me."

Emily's forehead crinkled up, her confidence returning in waves as she adjusted to reality. "I'm sorry. Who are you?"

At this point other members of the BAU had glanced up from their various activities in interest. They watched the exchange as one would watch a cage fight between two skilled fighters.

"I'm here to oversee you, to make sure you're doing your job," she paused and looked Emily up and down as if surveying her for weakness, " _correctly."_

Emily tilted her head, reading the woman's face and sorting out what she suspected to be a lie and what she suspected to be the truth. The only problem was the woman didn't have the time nor desire to be analyzed, so she jumped on the offered pause. "And from what I see here, you ar-"

But before they were able to receive the satisfaction of the first blow, Hotch rushed out from his office. "Sam."

The woman's head tilted up and all traces of confrontation disappeared in an instant. She approached Hotch as an old friend, walking into his outstretched arms comfortably.

"Hotch. It's been so long, but you look great. The BAU treats you well." The transformation of the woman was nothing short of miraculous. She had turned from someone of imposition into a smiling ray of sunshine in just a matter of seconds.

"Yes, well," Hotch smoothed down his suit and quirked a small smile, "I like it here. Wh-" but before he could continue the private conversation, Derek's open hanging mouth caught his eye. It only took several seconds after that to realize that all the members of the BAU were staring at the two of them intently.

"Oh. I'm sorry," he said, turning to everyone, "this is Sam Worchester. She's the Assistant Director of the International Operations Division."

Emily dropped her head even further into her palm, her eyes squeezing shut tight, all the while wishing the predicament she had previously found herself in was nothing more than a very bad dream.

"Every couple of years the FBI does a counter-evaluation of sorts to make sure each of the divisions are running smoothly. They usually send in someone from the outside to stay with us for a month or two, but," he turned and looked at Sam, "I suppose they figured they could trust your…honest opinion."

Sam tilted her head back and laughed a throaty chuckle, "Yes. I guess that's what they would call it."

Hotch laughed with her and still, the members of the BAU stared on with disbelief. Not only was Hotch smiling, and laughing, and _hugging_ , he was conversing with this woman as if they belonged in their own little world.

Reid was the first to speak up, "I don't understand what you mean by that."

Sam turned to Reid, "I have a reputation in the field for conducting my investigations very bluntly. I use only facts, and I use them well. I don't sugarcoat, I don't do favors, I don't take shortcuts. Something I'm sure you could relate to yourself, Dr. Reid."

"Well, I can see why she and Hotch get along now," Emily mumbled to Derek, who responded with a chuckle.

Reid nodded, "I can, yes. Very much so."

Hotch cleared his throat, "I'd like you to meet the rest of the team. In the back there is Jennifer Jareau. Derek Morgan's over there. You've met Spencer Reid. David Rossi isn't in right now, but you've met before, yes?"

Sam confirmed, "We've crossed paths a few times."

"And last but not least Emily Prentiss," Hotch finished. Emily forced her head up from it's downturned position only to be faced with piercing blue eyes that stared right through her.

"Nice to meet you," Emily tried after clearing her throat of all shame and regret that lingered from their first meeting.

"Yes." Sam said, as she held out her hand, the edge back in her voice, "very nice to meet you."

Emily shook it, all the while watching as a smirk flickered on the corner of Sam's lips. It was confusing, that upturned corner. The way it lifted made Emily feel as though she was being mocked and yet the look in Sam's eyes somehow convinced her that she was not.

"Well," Hotch forced his hands down by his side. "I suppose we'll get you set up in the spare office over here for the time being."

Sam finally broke the eye contact with Emily and dropped her hand. "Sounds great."

They walked to the office and at the click of the door shutting, all hell broke loose in the main room.

"Who was _that?"_ JJ asked in disbelief.

"Sam Worchester. Hotch just told us," Reid answered confusedly.

"No, man," Derek corrected, getting up from his desk. "She means, who the hell was that?"

"I just-" Reid began before tapering off. He'd knew he'd have to wait until his colleagues started speaking in more direct terms before he'd get involved again.

"Did you see what she was wearing?" JJ said to no one in particular.

"Did you see what she looked like?" Derek added as both he and JJ migrated over to Emily's desk where the best view of the spare office was.

"I saw both what she was wearing and what she looked like and I've also determined that she is not a fan of Emily." Reid said in an effort to relate.

JJ and Derek nodded, much to Reid's delight. Meanwhile, Emily was sitting at her desk, both hands holding up her head as she stared into the office, JJ and Derek behind each shoulder.

Through the window in the door, they could see Sam talking to Hotch, apparently catching up on old times as they flipped through several binders that were stacked on her desk.

"Yeah, why is that Emily? What'd you do to the woman?" Derek asked, his eyes still transfixed ahead.

Emily groaned. "Nothing, I didn't do anything. She just walked in and caught me at an...unusual time."

"Oh. Were you reading Cosmo again?" JJ asked.

"Co- What?" Emily choked out. She thought she was being secretive. She had taken every precaution to keep it a secret.

"Cosmo. The magazine. You read it whenever a date goes badly or when I suspect you're feeling lonely," Derek added.

"Which happens to be most of the time we're not on a case, as of late," Reid pointed out factually.

Another groan released out of Emily's mouth. She dropped her head on her desk and mumbled into the wood, "why do I have to work with a bunch of profilers? Why can't you all just be oblivious and self-centered?"

"Don't worry. We get it, Prentiss. Eases the brain from all the deductive reasoning you do on a daily basis. You work harder than anyone, only problem is," JJ sighed and pointed to the occupied office, "she doesn't know that."

Emily followed JJ's finger and once again her eyes caught on the blonde woman still flipping through those binders. She had glasses on now, perched on the edge of her nose as she read the small print, but every time she looked up to talk to Hotch, she pushed those glasses to sit on top of her head, blonde hair flipping out from the sides elegantly.

"You think she and Hotch had a thing way back?" Derek asked, with only a twinge of jealousy present in his voice. "Cause I wouldn't mind moving in on that."

JJ hit Derek's shoulder, an act that Emily would normally do if she wasn't still so mortified. "Such a dog." Derek chuckled as they continued to watch the two interact, their brains spinning as if on a case.

"I don't think so." JJ decided after awhile.

"I concur," Reid added. "They're body language suggests a closeness between them. They leave a decently small amount of personal space but it's still there, as if showing respect to one another."

"And the hug. It was formal, as if they felt it was necessary, but weren't exactly accustomed to touching that intimately," JJ said.

Derek cleared his throat, "Plus, Hotch is definitely a six and she's like, an eleven… I mean look at those legs."

Emily rolled her eyes, slowing coming back to life. She looked up to the man who was practically perched on her shoulder, "Does this work on girls? Dumbing yourself down and becoming a solely physical being?"

A grin from Derek was all Emily needed to confirm.

Just then, Sam looked up from the desk and out of the office window, where she was faced with four pairs of staring eyes.

JJ immediately looked down as if she was reading some paperwork on Emily's desk. Derek just walked away. Reid spun in his chair until he was facing his computer once again, but Emily remained in place, her eyes pinned on the woman as if to say, 'I'm here and I'm not going anywhere.'

And while Hotch continued to explain something in the binders, Sam matched Emily's gaze until the staring match turned from something of confrontation into something of curiosity and then, into something else.

* * *

"Sam?"

"Sam?"

Sam tore herself away from the other's agent's gaze and glanced toward Hotch. He looked out the door to see what she was staring at, but was only faced with the downturned heads of all of his agents working.

"I'm sorry. What were you saying?" She asked.

"Oh, well. I just finished going over the procedure, but I'm sure you can read this all on your own time."

"Yes, I think I can manage figuring out the rest. Thank you for all your help, Aaron. You can't imagine how much easier it is knowing someone in the department you're evaluating."

"I can imagine. This is your…fifth evaluation?"

Sam sighed, "Yes. Fifth and hopefully last. I'm telling them I'm closed to this type of business after this one.

"Well, going into various departments and picking apart their daily lives must be exhausting."

"You have no idea."

Hotch put his hands in his pockets and stood up straight, "well you don't have to worry about anything here. You know me, a stickler for the rules."

Sam chuckled, "Yes. Even in college. I think you once told me that drinking under 21 was going to come back and haunt me in my later years."

Hotch smiled. "Well has it?"

"Definitely," Sam grinned. She allowed her eyes to flicker out to the main room once again (though her curiosity longed to do it every other second) only to see that everyone was back to normal, looking down and seemingly working. A flicker of strange disappointment fizzled through her chest.

"So tell me about these people. Are they good agents?"

"Oh, the best. JJ is our communications liaison-"

"JJ?"

"Jennifer, we call her JJ most of the time."

"Got it."

"She's great with the press and the families, our life line to the outer world you could say. Reid's extraordinarily brilliant and tougher than he looks. Derek's the muscle, a great leader and very intuitive. Our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia is the best at what she does."

But Sam's mind was elsewhere. "What about Emily Prentiss?"

Hotch followed Sam's gaze out to Emily's desk. The woman was going through something on her computer and biting on the end of a pen. His eyes flickered back to watch Sam's face, and only once her eyes met his, he spoke.

"She's extremely trust-worthy and yet you'll find it hard to get her to put your trust in you. Competent, level-headed, able to look at a case objectively and stay that way throughout. Emotionally guarded. She's a great agent that does her job well..." Hotch trailed off as he realized that he was not giving Sam what she was apparently looking for.

"A closed book," Sam responded, to which Hotch agreed.

"Yes. You could say that. Although some of the other agents know her pretty well. You could say that she's let some people in the department in to a certain degree."

Sam turned to Hotch, "but not you?"

"No. I would not say that I have been privileged to the inner workings of Emily Prentiss quite yet. What's your reason for asking?"

"No specific reason," Sam answered as she watched Emily tilt her head from side to side, the tendons in her neck stretching pleasantly, "just curious."


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you think she eats?"

"Do you think she goes to the bathroom?"

"Maybe she's not human. Maybe she's some sort of robot."

Emily huffed as she stared at her computer. The gang of highly intelligent, heroic, crime-fighting members of the BAU were crowded around her desk once more gossiping about their new authority figure for close to twenty minutes, and she was at the end of her wits.

Sure, this might have been the quietest day they'd had in a long time, and yes, maybe they were all just hyper-focusing on this woman as a way to procrastinate the piles of paperwork they'd accumulated over the last few weeks, but did it really have to over her desk?

"Guys." They all paused and turned toward Emily. "Either go in there and ask her if she's a robot herself, or take this somewhere else."

JJ stood up from her position leaning on the edge of Emily's desk. "Someone's a little touchy…"

"Yes. Well you would be too if your personal evaluation was coming up in less than five minutes," Emily grumbled as she held up the piece of paper that had been distributed on her desk while she was away at lunch. In fact, they'd all come back to these papers that notified them of their first (out of how many they had no idea) personal evaluation by Sam Worchester.

During this evaluation they would meet with her for up to an hour to discuss day-to-day procedure, protocol, the works. At the bottom of the slip, was a disclaimer that the meetings were not meant to be a test and that they shouldn't be nervous. Of course, Emily only took that to mean that this meeting was definitely a test and that they should most definitely be nervous.

So she'd spent the last three hours reviewing protocol and procedural advice. She had even spent a bit of time researching Sam Worchester's backrground because if this meeting was anything like their first, she would need ammo.

"Well my evaluation isn't for another hour," Derek said. "Just around the time that the good restaurants start to open up. Think she'll be ready to get a bite to eat then?" He smirked at Emily in an effort to make her smile, but the woman was too busy being stuck in a whirlwind of despair.

"Hey," he said as he poked her arm. She finally glanced up, "You're a great agent. You've got nothing to worry about. So what if she likes to mess with you? You're fun to mess with. Doesn't mean anything."

Emily forced a weak smile. "Thanks Derek."

"And, according to the amount of work she's been doing in the past six hours, in comparison to the time she's eaten, or frankly, done anything else for that matter, she's got to be weak or at least fatigued," Reid added.

"It's not like I'm exactly trying to outrun her in a sprint, Reid. But thanks…for that."

"You're welcome."

Turning back to her computer, Emily tried to focus on the task at hand, but her mind kept wandering back to the office and the woman sat inside of it.

Reid was right though, the woman had been working at a near constant rate since she'd come in. Ever since Hotch had showed her the office, she hadn't come out, or even lifted her head for more than a second or two.

"Emily Prentiss." The voice rang out through the air and everyone's head turned accordingly. Emily look up to see Sam standing in the doorway of the office. In her hands she held a thin stack of papers, her glasses sit on top of her head.

For a split second, Emily wondered what she would think of this woman if she hadn't confronted her the way she had. She wondered what she'd think if she met her out in the field as someone's family member, or a witness.

She knew she'd immediately be struck by how sharp she was, in every sense of the word. Sharp in beauty, in the way she was dressed, her physicality. But it didn't just stop there, her body language was the same way as her appearence: controlled, precise. The way she spoke garnered attention, demanded it even, and yet convinced you at the same time it was beneficial for everyone to just give in. She alluring, addicting, and completely unbearable.

Emily resigned herself to the truth. Sam Worchester was exactly the type of person that she'd be attracted to. No doubt about it.

But that's as far as Emily allowed herself to muse with the what-ifs and the maybes. Because the fact was, this woman was not a witness or a family member; this woman was her boss for the time being. And if there was one thing she knew, it was that bosses were not allowed to be considered attractive. Ever.

"Emily Prentiss," Sam repeated louder. "Are you staging a rebellion against the evaluations, or are you ready to begin?" Emily snapped out of her own head and leaped up from her desk, cursing herself for daydreaming.

"No. I'm coming."

Gathering some papers in her hands (what they were she had no idea), she walked briskly toward Sam's office. Once through the entrance, Sam closed the door behind them and pulled down a shade to cover the small window.

Once sitting, they stared across the desk at one another without a word. At first it seemed to be a match between strength of will and curiosity, but after a couple seconds Emily began to wonder if she had missed a question Sam had asked. But yet again, she didn't want to mess this up more than she already had, so she resigned herself to just sit tight and wait. Wait forever if that's what it took.

Sam on the other hand hadn't planned to start the meeting out with a staring contest. In fact, she had intended to conduct the meeting professionally, opens, and hopefully without the venomous edge that she had met Emily with. That chance had come and gone.

So, they just stared at one another.

"Was there something you wanted to ask me?" Emily blurted out.

Sam chewed on the inside of her lip cursing the insults she felt bubbling up within her. "I wasn't aware you were in charge of this investigation, Emily Prentiss."

Emily raised her eyebrows, "Investigation? I thought this was an _evaluation_."

"It is what I say it is."

Emily clamped her mouth shut tight, the jaw muscles flexing on the profile of her face. The only word she managed to get out was a furious, "okay."

"How many hours a week would you say you spend working?" Sam asked as she looked down at the questionnaire sheet sitting in front of her. It was funny, she had created the list herself and yet the last thing she cared about in this moment was how many hours Emily Prentiss spent in the BAU headquarters.

"Depends on the case load."

Sam rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, "On an average week."

Emily tried to figure out what an average week would be considered when her job was looking at the most disturbed people in the country. "If we travel somewhere, then I would say upwards of 80 to 90 hours."

Sam jotted down the number in a pad that sat in front of her, "And what do you spend most of your time on during this hours?"

"Well, travel can vary depending on how far away that case is, but mostly we spend time out in the field interviewing witnesses, looking at the crime scenes, examining evidence. The rest of the time is spent with the group and local police sharing ideas and compiling a profile."

Sam continued to take notes even after Emily was done speaking. She looked up after some time and wrinkled her eyebrows at the pad. "And how much time do you spend reading magazines?"

Emily felt her body rush with adrenaline. "I'm not exactly sure what you have against indulging in a guilty pleasure for the first ten minutes that I walk in the door, but I can assure you that it does not interfere with my work."

Sam's gaze flickered over Emily, her pursed lips, her clenched jaw, the eyes that burnt into her as if she were the devil itself. "I see," she responded before writing something else down in the pad.

Her pen scanned down a list of unknown question that Emily could see had been typed out on the page. The pen stopped halfway down. "Do you usually have a problem with authority?" Sam asked.

Emily felt her cheeks warming now. She clenched her fists on top of her thighs, willing all of her frustration to reside in them and not in her tone of voice. "No."

"So it's just me then?" Sam answered, challenging her. Always challenging her.

"I don't have anything against you." Gritted teeth made it hard to make Emily's words seem believable.

"Then would you like to tell me why you're gripping my desk as if you're ready to tear it a chunk of it off?"

Emily looked down at her hands. Somehow they had migrated from her thighs to the desk, and were now white-knuckling the edge in a death grip. She immediatelyd dropped them to her sides.

Embarrassed by her blatant act of rage, she leaned back into the chair. "I'm sorry." A deep huff worked its way out from her chest. "I'm not usually this…" she trailed off as she glanced around the room.

"You're not what?"

Emily refocused her eyes on the woman in front of her, noticing now that she had a trail of freckles that sat on the bridge of her nose, a few of those freckles having fallen off and littering her cheeks. "transparent."

And this time when Sam looked into Emily's eyes, she saw that her fight was gone. It was temporary, they both knew that, but it was gone nonetheless.

Surprisingly, this discovery resulted in immense relief. She had been awake for more than forty-two hours at this point between working and traveling and moving and all of the sudden, in this moment, during her evaluation with Emily, it was crashing down on her. Hard.

On top of that, she'd developed a migraine in the past hour that just wouldn't go away.

With a sigh, Sam placed her pen next to the pad and rubbed her temples. Allowing her eyes to close for the briefest of moments, she wished away the throbbing behind her eyes that had no doubt accumulated from the immense stress she put on herself.

Emily watched her in confusion as the blonde rested for a brief period of time. She knew she could have taken the moment of supposed weakness to attack but she couldn't find it within herself to do so. She was just as exhausted as the other woman seemed.

So they took the moment for what it was, a standstill.

It was in this comfortable silence that Emily found her eyes drifting to the room around her. There were a few boxes with pictures intended for the walls, some decorations, a stack of books, a light.

Emily wondered how often the woman changed offices and if she had anything personal to add to the room. She wondered if Sam knew the photographers that had taken the photographs and the painters that had painted the pictures. She wondered what side of Sam, Hotch had known way back in the day, and what had happened to her since then.

She wondered a lot of things before glancing back across the desk, and when she finally did, she noticed something unusual. Sam was asleep.

Sitting in the chair, head hanging between her hands, the woman's eyes were closed, her lips parted as the softest hum of a snore traveled through them.

Emily found herself smiling.

Smiling because 'what the hell', because 'who was this woman', because 'Sam Worchester was snoring. Softly, but she was' and mostly of all because Emily knew she was the one in control now.

She could embarrass, undermine, de-throne, destroy the blonde with the perfect move in this moment. And yet, she didn't.

Why?

Because she was Emily Prentiss: profiler extraordinaire, permanently emotionally unavailable, lonely, generous, strong, decent Emily Prentiss.

That was all it came down to. Decency.

She was a decent human being who fought only with a worthy opponent. And in her book, someone tired enough to fall asleep near mid-conversation with their head hanging in their hands was not exactly considered worthy.

So she could have left the room. Left without a word, and let the woman deal with her own actions when Derek came in for his evaluation, but she didn't.

Why was that?

Well, that had less to do with her decency and more to do with the fact that Sam Worchester was attractive and infuriating and intriguing and made Emily want to smash her head straight into a wall.

So naturally she protected her.

With the office door open just enough for her head to peek out, she glanced into the main room for Derek.

"Derek," the man looked up from his computer, "your evaluation is moved to tomorrow."

Derek nodded hesitantly and then shot her a sympathetic look. She nodded as if to say, 'I know. What a drag, right?' before shutting the door again.

Glancing back at the still sleeping woman, she looked around the office for something to do while she waited, but instead decided to sit in her own chair and lean back and maybe close her eyes for just…one…secon….

* * *

"Don't worry. I'll always find you," the voice hissed just before Sam jerked awake, shattering the nightmare. Her eyes snapped open and she found herself blinking to adjust to the light. When she could see almost properly, her gaze landed on Emily, who was staring at her in concern from across the desk.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm…" Sam looked around the room. It was darker, and there was no light coming in from the window outside. "I'm alright. Wher- Wait why do you ask?" Her mind worked to clear the fogginess still present in her brain.

"You were kind of, well," Emily looked hesitant to continue, but Sam stared and waited, "you were crying in your sleep."

"I, what?" Sam asked as she touched the screen of her phone. 7:21 p.m. "I fell asleep?" She rustled through the papers on her desk as if there would be an answer within them.

"Yeah," Emily said as she watched the frantic woman flounder. "I'm going to go…"

"What? No. Your evaluations not over." Sam kept blinking rapidly, hoping her contacts would focus. Her mouth was dry. She was starving. Somehow something rock-shaped was stuck in her shoe. She was a mess.

"You're kidding." Emily's mouth resigned to a flat line.

"I don't kid," she said as she reached around on top of her head for her glasses. Except they weren't there, they were in Emily outstretched hand. Sam snatched them from her.

"You do kid," Emily countered.

Sam raised an eyebrow and Emily responded by pulling a Cosmo magazine from behind her back.

"Found this in one of your boxes. Guess I'm not the only one, huh?"

Sam's face traveled through a myriad of expressions before settling on fury. "You went through my stuff?"

Emily sighed and dropped the magazine on the desk. "It was on the top and you were asleep for four hours. What was I supposed to do?"

Sam's lips trembled with anger, her eyes working to level Emily. With an outstretched finger, she pointed to the door. "Get. Out."

Emily pushed up from her chair and rolled her eyes. This whole power trip thing was getting old fast.

Sam watched her walk toward the door closely. Just before she left, Emily turned over her shoulder, "I told Derek his evaluation was rescheduled til 9 am. Tomorrow. JJ was pushed to 11 am. Oh, and Hotch dropped off edits on a preliminary report before he left. I told him headquarters head called and you would get back to him in the morning."

And then she left.

Sam sat in her office feeling like the jack-ass she knew she was, leftover scratchiness itched in her throat from her nap. On the right hand side of her desk was the report Emily had been talking about. She'd even go as far to write down the new evaluation times on a piece of paper.

From experience, Sam knew that it took at least one full minute for guilt to settle deeply in her stomach. Shame usually came next at an average time of two minutes and thirty two seconds and last but not least came the stinging sense of self-disappointment that always arrived hand in hand with her quick-temper.

In this case though, Sam felt the whole batch in one unbearable sinking, burning, stinging feeling. And within 14 seconds of Emily leaving, she was up and out of her chair. She whipped open the door, ready to make a mad dash out of the building, but the brunette was still in the main room, packing up her belongings for the night.

She looked up when Sam rushed out, freezing all motion.

"I-" Sam rubbed the back of her neck. She didn't know how to explain herself. "I apologize."

Emily pressed her lips together and looked down as she continued to pack her bag. "It's fine."

"No," Sam took another step forward, "I shouldn't have snapped at you after I woke up. I'm not exactly, a morning person. Or…in this case, a night person."

Emily's lips smiled fluttered at their own accord, but her eyes remained cast down. "I understand."

Sam chewed on her lip. It wasn't good enough. "And thank you. For keeping the nap a secret."

Emily didn't exactly answer. Only nodded.

"You did, keep it a secret, right?" Sam prodded desperately. She felt like a fish out of water. She felt weak. She felt embarrassed.

That got the brunette agent to finally look up. With a deep breath, she finally spoke, "Yes. I kept it a secret. Your reputation is safe."

Finally finished packing, Emily heaved her bag on her shoulder and began making her toward the exit. Sam called out behind her one last time and even though Emily just wanted to go home and lie in a bed and not think about the woman that she was feeling increasingly ambivalent about, she stopped in her tracks.

"I'm not used to feeling so transparent either," the woman had said, in a tone that Emily had never dreamed could come from her mouth. So Emily did her a courtesy and helped remove the self-created circle of rope off this woman's neck.

She turned around until she saw the blue of those eyes and said, "Goodnight Sam."

To which Sam responded, "Goodnight Emily."

* * *

 **Let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

The rain pelted Sam's windshield in large, loud smacks as she drove through the streets of Quantico, Virginia. Her windshield wipers whipped in a fury to push the water away, but it was coming down so fast that she had to lean forward on the steering wheel just to see where she was going.

Following the spotlight created by her headlights, she followed down a gravel road until it turned into grass. At that point she turned off her car, cutting the hum of the engine so that all she could hear were the raindrops smacking away.

Reaching in the back, she grabbed up a baseball that had been rolling around on the leather seat during the drive. With the baseball clutched in her palm, she stepped out of the car and into the rain, the water dampening her hair until it stuck to her head in clumps.

She took a few steps in front of the car, where her headlights still shone, until she approached a tombstone marked Daniel Worchester. There were no other words inscribed, no dates, just the flowing calligraphy that made up the name.

A few steps forward and she bent down until she was practically kneeling in the dirt.

"The Mets started their spring training today little brother. People are saying they're gonna go all the way this year."

She twirled the baseball in her hand, observing the stitches. With a bitter chuckle she closed her fist around the ball. "Can you imagine how furious Dad will be if that happens?"

Eventually, her smile fell though, leaving trembling lips in its wake. With a clearing of her throat, she brought the ball to her lips, kissed it, and placed it next to the stone. Content that it was there to stay, she pushed up onto her feet and returned to her car. As she pulled away, she eyed the tombstone as it got smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror until it was nothing more than a speck in the dark.

* * *

"Rise and Shine! It's a new day. A bright and sunny day where nothing bad could happen and everything is wonderful," Penelope Garcia cheerfully greeted Emily before the door of the BAU headquarters with a cup of coffee in hand.

Emily narrowed her eyes, "what's the bad news?"

Garcia smiled widely, a little too widely, "Bad news? What bad news? Can't I just be excited to see an amazing woman on an amazing day?"

Emily took the cup of coffee, not giving up it's skeptical demeanor. She attempted to walk into the main room where their desks sat, but Garcia moved until she was standing in her way. She tried again, this time to the other side, but again Garcia got in between her and her destination.

She narrowed her eyes even more and motioned beyond them to the room in which she was trying to get to. "Alright, just tell me. What's going on in there that's going to put me in a bad mood?"

But Garcia just kept beaming so hard her cheeks had to be hurting. So Emily faked one way and went the other, tricking Garcia off balance.

"Ah ha!" Emily said as she continued through the door, until she saw what was happening in the main room. Then she screeched to a halt.

Garcia hurried up behind her as she fidgeted uncomfortably. "I had a feeling you wouldn't like it."

"What is this?" Emily whispered to the colorfully decorated woman. For just ahead of her, surrounding Derek's desk was the entire group: Reid, Derek, JJ, Hotch listening intently while Sam animatedly told them a story.

And the thing was…they were enjoying it. Any moron could tell that they were all fully invested in the story. They were practically hanging on to every word.

"What's happening?" Emily repeated to Garcia.

"Well, see the thing is, Sam wanted to get the evaluations done with before work actually started. In case of, you know, any cases that popped up and during that time she somehow…succeeded in getting everyone to…" Garcia cringed as she watched Emily's hand tighten dangerously around her Styrofoam coffee cup, "like her," she finished.

"But she's awful."

Garcia fidgeted with her glasses, which were purple today, "Yes. I did hear that she was awful to you, but to everyone else, she's quite likeable. I have to say, she did kind of win me over this morning when she brought in scones for the whole-"

"She brought in scones?" Emily nearly yelled. Except, she might have actually yelled, and the entire group might have heard her and craned their heads toward her.

JJ smiled nervously, "Emily, you're here."

Emily walked to her desk and dropped her stuff. She plastered on a smile, but directed her eyes toward Sam when she spoke, "I am."

Sam, ever the politician, smiled at Emily a little forcedly. "I was just telling everyone about the time I got trapped in a subway in Bulgaria."

"Sounds interesting," Emily quipped as she sat down in her seat and began typing away on her computer. She was determined to ignore everyone. Especially Sam.

Sam shrugged and turned back to the woman, and all the waiting eyes. "So as I was saying…"

Emily rolled her eyes and did the best she could tune her out. Which turned out to be harder than she thought. Somehow, Sam had transformed personalities overnight, going from strict abider of the law to something akin to a snake charmer.

As a result her story required hand motions and different voices and adventure and excitement and Emily just couldn't take it. So she opted to remove herself from the situation.

Walking over to where the files were stashed, she felt as though she could finally breathe once Sam's voice quieted to nothing more than indistinguishable chatter in the background, that chatter quieting even more when she began to read some of the cases that were waiting for approval or denial by the BAU.

Most of them seemed to be nothing more than the result of frustrated local police with a string of cold cases. It wasn't uncommon for the cops to conjure up the idea of an imaginary serial killer in their minds when the amount of unsolved cases climbed in the area but one of them stuck out. One of them was different.

File in hand; Emily shuffled back over to the group, her eyes constantly scanning the pictures and papers. The group quieted once they noticed Emily standing there. Emily looked up.

"I think I found something."

Hotch craned his head, "what is it Emily?"

"These victims," Emily spread the pictures out on the desk as everyone leaned forward, "at first they all seemed random. The first one, a corrupt banker found dead in his office. The second one, a construction worker seemingly pushed to his death during a job and the third a housewife stabbed to death with a kitchen knife. The motives of the murders written plainly in day but…"

And now Emily flipped through the papers until she reached the bottom. She spread these papers on the desk as well and they all leaned in even closer. "They all had extremely high levels of epinephrine in their blood, even after their death." Emily looked at a chart, "Extremely high levels. Nothing that could be naturally occurring. Not even close."

Hotch picked up one of the papers and scanned it, "was there anything else you noticed at first glance that could link these murders?"

"Yes. There's one other thing."

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"Lipstick," Emily said. "At all the crime scenes contained the same type of lipstick. Now it doesn't sound all that strange since two of the victims wore lipstick on a regular basis, but the man. He had a tube in his pocket, same brand, same color. And it says here he was single with no girlfriend as much as anyone was aware. "

Derek leaned back in her chair, JJ pressed her lips together and looked toward Hotch, who gathered the papers, stood up and retreated to his office to make a phone call.

With a deep breath, Emily began to walk to the kitchen to heat up her coffee now that it had gotten cold. Plus, she needed some time to breathe. Whenever they picked up a new case, it took her a second or two to adjust to the chest crushing feeling that occurred when divulging into the world of murder.

She was extraordinarily gifted at keeping this feeling under wraps. In fact, she was gifted at keeping any emotional damage resulting from the field of work she was involved in from traveling externally. Unfortunately the downside of keeping all that pain and empathy trapped inside of her was this chest crushing feeling, but if it meant that the team could look to her as one of the strong ones, then it was worth it. It was definitely worth it.

"That was impressive. I didn't know you had it in you. " Emily jumped when Sam's voice shattered her thoughts. She glanced over to the woman who was eyeing her carefully.

But Emily ignored her, and punched a few buttons on the microwave instead. Sam stared at Emily in the process, looking at everything there was to see. Her hair, her eyes, the expression on her face, the way she held her hands, the tightness of the skin between her eyebrows.

"Don't," Emily said, still staring at the microwave, waiting for it to finish.

"Don't what?"

"Profile me, observe me, whatever you were doing. Don't. We have a rule against it in the BAU and if you're smart, you'll follow it."

Sam leaned against the wall behind her as she considered this. It made sense. Put a bunch of profilers in a room and secrets would be nearly impossible to hide, and if there was one thing she knew, it was that sometimes, keeping some things a secret were a good thing. But she couldn't help herself, she felt a flame of curiosity burn inside of her as she wondered what secrets Emily Prentiss could be hiding. "What are you afraid I'll find?"

The microwave beeped and Emily took out her coffee, blowing the steam away before she turned to face Sam. "What is it you want from me, Sam?"

Sam began to chew on the inside of her lip once again, a habit that Emily seemed to induce in her, "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

Emily sipped her coffee and cringed when it burnt her tongue. She took a deep breath. "It' doesn't take a member of the FBI to see that you have something against me."

"I don't-"

"You have no problem buddying up to JJ and Derek, who I'm sure already worships your unfairly long legs, but with me, you're as cold as could be. Why? What exactly have I done to you?"

Sam opened her mouth to talk, but Emily wasn't done. "And if I'm so unbearable. If I've offended you so deeply in the past _day_ we've known each other, why do you keep following me and reminding me? You've heard of overkill, haven't you Sam?" Emily took a step forward in until she was well within Sam's personal space, her eyes tracking the blue ones intensively. "Well this is what it looks like."

And with that Emily left the kitchen with her burnt tongue and her too hot coffee and her bad attitude that was a result of the fact that she had never had a second to decompress from her aching chest and it hurt. It all just hurt.

"Em. We're having a meeting," Derek called as he peeked his head into the kitchen He glanced over her head, "you too Sam."

Emily tensed her jaw and stopped at her desk tograb a pad and pencil before following Derek into the room, not looking behind her for a second to see if the other woman was following.

Once she was seated the short meeting began with Hotch validating Emily's findings. "I've called the local police and they've formally invited us to come and investigate. Once we get there we'll be briefed and given full access. They're sending over the extended files any minute now. We'll be leaving this afternoon."

Hotch looked to Sam, who was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. "Will you be coming?"

Emily held her breath.

Sam nodded, "Absolutely."

That breath coming out in a frustrated huff.

The time spent on the jet dragged like no other and there was nothing Emily could do about it. The files the local police had sent over contained nothing more of interest to them, so it wasn't as if they could get a jump on profiling the case. They just had to wait, something that was becoming increasingly difficult for her to do now that there was a new addition to the team.

Ever since Emily's outburst about five hours ago, Sam had backed off substantially, going as far to outright avoid the brunette agent. And while Emily found it almost refreshing that she could relax, it was even more frustrating.

Frustrating that the woman had obeyed her wishes. Frustrated that it had been that easy to scare her off, frustrated (and paranoid) that she had gone too far and acted too harshly on someone who had unknowingly been coming down a bit too hard on her.

And most of all frustrated that Samantha Worchester had the power to induce the powerful and leveling feeling of self-doubt in her, a feeling she was not accustomed to feeling.

Also she may have felt a tad bit apprehensive because what the hell was she thinking standing up to the one woman who could get her fired in a second if she wanted.

Meanwhile Sam and Derek were chatting it up in the seats near her discussing things like the architecture in Italy. Emily rolled her eyes as she listened to Derek speak of things he knew nothing about. She was the one who had lived in Rome for a period of time. She knew the architecture, not Derek. The only things he knew were possibly from an art history textbook back in college.

"Hey," JJ plopped down in the seat next to Emily. "You okay?"

"What? Oh yeah, I'm fine."

JJ looked unconvinced, "Listen I know you and Sam got off to a bad start, but you should give her another chance. She seems to have only the best intentions."

Emily watched as Sam laughed as something Derek said, throwing her head back with glee. "She sure does have _intentions_ ," Emily grumbled.

"Maybe you should just talk to her. Clear this all up?"

Emily shot the two one more look before promising herself a break from the torture. She vowed to keep her eyes only on JJ. "We've done enough talking. Trust me."

JJ sighed and tapped the armrests with her fingers. With an escaping breath she resigned to just let the situation between the two women unfold as it would.

"Alright. If you say so."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: To the reviewer wondering if Emily's undercover background will be included: that would be a no. I feel as though including that whole mess would just require more characters and time away from the Sam/Emily dynamic, which is what I wanted to focus more on. Thanks for reviewing :)**

* * *

The second they got off the plane, Emily was relieved of all inner turmoil. They had too much to do, too much to see, and she didn't have time to worry about where Sam was or how Sam was treating her or why she cared so much about the woman anyway when there was a serial killer on the loose.

"Agent Hotchner," A tall, scruffy man called from the side of the room when the group of profilers walked into the police station. When he approached them he held a hand to Hotch after rubbing it roughly on his pants.

"Sheriff Trent," Hotchner greeted with a shake. "This is the team."

Nodding, the Sheriff began to walk them through the station, "We've got you set up over here." He opened the door to a side room that had everything they needed. "My attention is needed elsewhere right now, but feel free to ask around for anything you need."

"Great. Thank you."

And with that, the Sheriff was gone as quick as he came. Hotch gathered the group with a hand motion.

"Alright, we're starting with very little here. That only means that every piece of information you collect is crucial. JJ, Reid, I need you two to go talk to the list of witnesses. As shown in the file, no one saw any of the murders, but a few people did have the unfortunate pleasure of stumbling upon the bodies."

JJ and Reid nodded and exited the room. "Emily, you and Sam will go to the coroner's. All the bodies have been preserved. The medical examiner will be there to walk you through any findings he's had since reopening the case. And Derek and I…" but Emily didn't hear the rest of Hotch's spiel because of course she would end up with Sam. That's just how the stars always happened to align for her.

You are a professional. A professional that is focusing on catching a serial killer. You are a professional, Emily repeated in her head over and over as she approached Sam from behind.

"Ready?"

Sam snapped the lid on her coffee newly poured and nodded. They walked out of the station in silence. They got in the car in silence. In fact, it wasn't until Emily had slid in the driver's seat and Sam had climbed in beside her that any words were spoken.

"If we're going to work together, then I need you to know something about me," Sam began.

Emily fidgeted in her seat and twisted the key until the ignition sounded. "Okay?"

"I'm not great with dead bodies."

Crinkling her nose, Emily pulled out of the station and glanced between the road and the GPS. "I'm not sure anyone is really _great_ with dead bodies."

"No. No, it's worse than that. I tend to feel faint if I have to focus on them," Sam muttered as she looked out the window. Strands of her hair flew around her face from the cracked window.

"But you work in the FBI…" Emily answered, confused now. She took a quick glance over to the woman beside her, and saw the struggle on her face.

"Yes. And if I focus on the task at hand, apprehending an unsub, then I can get through it, but I'm just warning you this-"

"Might be rough?" Emily finished.

"Precisely." Sam threaded her hands together and kneaded them on her lap. A heat rose in her cheeks and she turned her head even farther to look out the window so Emily wouldn't catch it. It was just embarrassing, her situation. She was in the business of dead bodies and yet spending more than a few minutes near one had her pale.

"Okay. If it becomes too much, let me know," Emily said after a pause. Sam turned to look at the brunette agent. Well, that was not what she had expected. Laughter, mocking, disapproval, disbelief, that's what she had thought was coming. After all, she was a god damn assistant director of the FBI, with a corpse phobia. She knew it wasn't as if everyone else in her profession was completely unaffected, but if they were they kept it a secret from the shame that came with hit.

But Emily sounded as if she was…understanding.

Emily's eyes flicked next to her and she caught Sam looking at her in disbelief. The expression almost made her smile, how innocently in shock she was. "What? I'm not a monster. No matter how determined you may be to believe that."

Sam rolled her eyes and took a sip of her coffee instead of responding outright. It was as if the jabs they took at one another didn't even warrant a defense. They threw them out and took them with such efficiency that it was just an expected part of the relationship now.

When they pulled up to the coroner's building Sam felt her throat tightening. She did her best to hide it, and yet, she knew that Emily was watching her, reading her, monitoring her. But if Emily noticed something wrong with the other woman, she didn't show it, just continued to walk inside until the cool air prickled their skin roughly.

The medical examiner was a short man with thinning hair that crossed his head in wisps. He led them to the bodies, which were laid out on three parallel tables inside a room

Looking through the glass window to the room in which they were about to enter, Sam clenched her fist by her side and demanded herself to breathe. Emily stopped right before the door and looked at the woman standing before her.

Sam had already taken on a pasty shade of white and they'd yet to even approach the bodies yet. She knew the assistant director thought this phobia had been kept under wraps, but she doubted that anyone working with her could have missed the obvious signs.

Before she could say anything though, Sam growled, "I'm fine."

Emily huffed at the pure stubbornness but held out her hand anyway, her fist clutched around something. "Give me your hand."

Sam narrowed her eyes, "What?

"Just give me your hand."

For some reason unknown to her, Sam obliged and held open her hand. Emily slid something in it, but closed her own fingers aroundbefore she could see what it was. With her hand still encircling Sam's, Emily waited for those blue eyes to lift from their skin contact to her own eyes.

"Don't look at what this is. Just feel. When you start to get weak, sick, whatever, just focus on the object in your hands. Flip it around, run your fingers over it, imagine. What it looks like, what colors it has, if there's any writing on it."

"How the hell am I supposed to figure out the colors with touch?" Sam snapped as she began to uncurl her fingers to look at the object. But Emily's hand only gripped tighter to stop her.

"Just try. Get a picture in your head." Sam looked unconvinced still, and a little bit irritated if Emily was being honest, but that wasn't unusual when she was involved.

"Just," Emily sighed, "trust me."

There was a moment then when they both looked at each other as if realizing at the same time how ridiculous the notion was. They knew barely anything about each other, the time they'd spent together they'd fought and clashed for a reason that's still unknown and yet there Emily was, asking Sam to trust her.

Eventually, Sam nodded, hesitantly at first, and then more forcefully. Once Emily believed her, she lifted her hand off Sam's and lowered her hand to her side. It was shocking, the harshness of the cool breeze on the places where their skin had been warming one another's. Shocking and surprisingly unpleasant.

"Ready?" Emily asked, a strange pink coloring covering her cheeks.

"Yes."

And then they walked into the room with the bodies. The medical examiner began immediately, describing the wounds that the bodies sustained, lab results, and any unusual findings. Sam listened best she could, tried not to stare directly at the bodies, and flipped the object in her hand over and over inside her pocket.

It was some sort of metal, that much she could be sure of. The shape was round, a near perfect circle she decided, and the edges were smoothed like a penny's. For a second she'd thought it might have been a coin, but on one side the metal was raised as if there a carving on the face, and the back there was a tiny round protrusion.

Softly, she heard the medical examiner talking. "The high levels of epinephrine were unusual. I suspect that it was enough to give all victims a heart attack which would have needed to come before death."

"So, all of these stab wounds were the result of overkill? Is it possible they were done after the subjects were already dead?" Emily asked.

"Oh, they were," the medical examiner responded casually. "The time between the injection of this amount of epinephrine, and death would be very small. Definitely not enough time for twenty-six stabs."

"Did you find the injection site?" Sam asked as she struggled to maintain present in the room. Emily glanced at her, and Sam matched Emily's look with her own. It appeared as if Emily were trying to read her current state, but she gave away nothing. They glanced back to the medical examiner.

"That's the thing. There wasn't just one," the medical examiner lifted the blanket on one of the bodies to reveal a thigh that had seven, very small, very easy to miss, puncture holes in it.

Sam felt her head swim at the blue-ish tint of the bodies and she focused on the object. The design on the front, it felt like it formed a shape, a specific shape. a building, maybe. She imagined all the different kinds of buildings it could be. A government building, a example of architecture, a church, a house.

"Seven?" Emily said in disbelief. "Do they all have this many?"

"One has ten, another twelve. They're on different spots of the body. I couldn't find them on the last body at first, because they were on her hairline. But they're there."

The break spent focusing on the building type of the object in her pocket gave Sam the strength to participate again. "Why so many? Why not just inject the amount they wanted in one needle?"

"It must have been a measured out amount since all the levels were consistent with the amount of injections."

The room got quiet as they filtered through their brains to think of what kind of needle was pre-measured out or could be pre-measured.

"An epi-pen," Sam said suddenly. Emily looked at her in surprise.

"That would explain it," the medical examiner said as he clicked his tongue.

"An epi-pen." Emily said to herself, deep in thought and then to no one in particular she added, "we're going to need to bring this back to the team. The fact that the cause of death is something so, common is going to have an impact on the profile."

"Well, if you have any questions, you know where I'll be. Me and my friends don't move around that much," he chuckled. Emily saw Sam cringe at the joke.

"Thank you for everything. We'll be in touch," Emily answered as she and Sam walked out of the building. The second they were outside, they were enveloped in warmth from the sun. It was a sweet relief from the chill that permanently resided inside the building.

Climbing into the car, Emily noticed that the color in Sam's cheeks had returned. Just as before, they began without talking. Not that they didn't want to, it was just that neither knew what to say. Emily wanted to ask Sam if she was okay but didn't want to overstep any boundaries. Sam wanted to thank Emily but there was no way the brunette would think she was sincere.

So they sat there, until Emily cleared her throat. "Did you figure out what it was?"

The edge of Sam's lips twitched as if considering a smile, but deciding against it. "I think so."

"Alright, let's hear it."

"It's a button," Sam said.

"That's easy. Tell me more. What does it look like?" Emily prodded as her eyes scanned the road. Sam watched her, noticing how the tendons in the brunette's neck strained. Even just driving, the woman was tense.

"It's made out of metal. I'm guessing copper. There's an engraving on the front."

"Of what?" Emily asked.

Sam kept her eyes glued on Emily curiously. Why was it that Emily kept this button in her pocket, anyway?

"At first I thought it was a building," a flicker of something in Emily's face. Sam took it as encouragement and continued. "but it's not square enough, the carving is too rounded in spots so I thought then it might be a landscape, but I'm not so sure either," she took a breath and closed her eyes, her fingers running over the surface. With her eyes still closed, Emily parked the car at the station and turned to the side so she could have a better look at the blonde. The woman looked like a different person so relaxed.

"It's a fountain," Sam said the second her eyes opened. She waited for Emily to confirm or deny.

Emily smiled, "Look at it"

So Sam pulled her hand out of her pocket and flattened her palm so that the button sat perched on top. And to her amazement, she was right. It was a bronzed button with a fountain carved upon it, water shooting up and out into the air. Around it were flowers and stone.

With slow movements, Emily reached over and picked the button up from Sam's palm, her thumb running over the surface. "It's from the first case I ever helped solve at the BAU. I found it just sitting on the ground and for some reason I picked it up."

Sam swallowed as she Emily stared at that button as if it were her only possession. Emily met Sam's eyes.

"It reminds me why I do this job."

Sam felt her throat getting dry. This change in dynamic for her and Emily was so unusual to them that she didn't know how to handle it.

"Why's that?" Sam asked hoarsely.

"To bear the pain of evil so others don't have to."

Sam caught herself staring. Not glancing, not looking, as she and Emily seemed to do throughout the day to one another. No, staring with her mouth open and her eyes wide.

Before another word could be said, a tap on the window made them both tense. It was Derek, motioning inside the building. "Meeting now," he shouted so that they could hear him through the glass.

They both worked to undo their seatbelts in haste and exited the car. Once Emily had made it around to Sam's side though, she stopped in front of the other woman and turned. "I-I'm not sure why we don't get along…" she said uncertainty, as if she didn't know why the words were coming out of her mouth.

Sam felt her teeth search for the spot where they often nipped for her lip because she had thought that the trip to the coroner's was them getting along but maybe that was just her inner hope projecting out.

"…but for the sake of the case, I think we need to make professionalism our first concern," Emily finished.

Sam felt her old instincts rising to the surface, the ones that told her to brush Emily Prentiss off and tear her down at every turn because she was in charge here. She was the boss. She wished them to go away, but they were fueled by pride.

"If you can control yourself, Agent Prentiss. Then I suppose I can as well," Sam responded with a clipped tone that even she found unpleasant sounding. Emily's jaw flexed and Sam watched her eyes burn brightly before she turned and continued up the stairs to the station in a march.

Sam sighed, hating herself in that moment.

Pride was a stupid thing.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam trudged up the stairs of the station with a coffee cup in hand and eyes that wouldn't stay open. She didn't understand how the members of the BAU did it. It had been almost four in the morning before anyone suggested that they should get some rest and even then, the idea was met with some resistance.

With a push, she opened the door. Her eyes took some time to adjust to the dimness of the room as the early morning sun had not yet become strong enough to filter through the windows.

There was a single desk lamp that sat on the table, a shining spotlight on a pile of papers and a figure. A few steps closer and Sam could tell the person was brunette. Another couple steps and she could tell that it was Emily.

With her head splayed out on the papers, her hands cradling a pillow for her head, it became very clear to Sam that she was stuck in a deep sleep.

And Sam had no idea what to do.

Was it overstepping if she woke her up? Was it stranger if she didn't? Should she tell her to go home and sleep for a few hours before coming back? Should she wait it out?

Unconsciously, she sunk into the chair next to the sleeping woman, her brain working at a dizzying rate because since when had she been one to second-guess herself? And since when had she thought this thoroughly about something as simple as waking someone up?

Meanwhile, Emily had begun to stir from her position. Her head turned to the side and her hand brushed the hair out of her face sleepily. Blinking awake, she saw Sam sitting beside her. The blonde was looking out the window, entranced in thought.

"Sam?"

The blonde turned to Emily and smiled. It was the first time, she realized, she'd ever really and truly smiled at the woman. And she couldn't have stopped it if she wanted. Emily's hair was flopped in every which angle, her eyes open the smallest amount they would allow without being closed, and there was a tiny bit of drool on the side of her mouth. Just a tiny bit.

Emily pursued her lips as she eyed the smile, skeptical. "What?"

Sam tried her best to hide it, really attempted to pull her lips back into a flat line, but they were drawn too tight. She raised her manicured hand to cover it instead.

With a growl that was less fierce than it was sleepy, Emily lifted her head even more. "What?" she demanded.

A muffled chuckle broke out from behind Sam's hand. "You, uh," she motioned to the spot near her own mouth. "You've got a little drool."

Immediately, Emily whipped a hand up and wiped it away looking embarrassed and furious and also a little confused. At least the second-hand embarrassment got to Sam though; she managed to finally wipe the smile off her face.

"Were you here all night?" Sam asked.

Emily reached for a mug of cold coffee that sat in front of her. She took a sip before answering. "Yeah. I must have gotten caught up going through the case files for the tenth time and fallen asleep. "

Sam nodded empathetically. She understood getting wrapped in work so deeply that physical limitations were the only thing that stopped you from doing more. In fact, she'd been there multiple times during important cases.

So out of the kindness out of her heart, but mostly because she was curious how Emily would react, she held out her hot cup of coffee. "Want it?"

Emily eyed the coffee before flicking her gaze back to Sam. "What's the catch?"

"Why does there have to be a catch?"

"Because there always is," Emily said.

Sam shrugged, "Consider it a thank you for yesterday."

But Emily wasn't convinced as Sam held out the cup. After a beat of waiting, Sam shook the cup a bit, "offer ends in five seconds. Take it or leave it."

Slowly, but surely Emily's hand reached out and circled around the Styrofoam. She twisted it in her hand before taking a cautious sip. The liquid traveled down her throat and left sweet warmth in its wake.

Smug as could be, Sam watched Emily nearly moan in delight over the coffee. Once the assistant director was satisfied that she had done some good, she left the room in search of another coffee that she could get her hands on.

Emily barely noticed, too busy appreciating the caffeine buzz ricocheting through her system to care what was happening around her.

Seven more sips and JJ walked in the room, folders in hand. She took one look at Emily's mussed appearance and sighed. "You slept here."

Emily shrugged.

"You really need to go home and sleep at some point, Emily."

"You think the families of these victims are able to sleep?"

JJ lowered herself into the chair next to Emily's. "No, but they don't have to solve this case. We do."

"Yeah," Emily began, "I know, but look. I'm awake. I have hot coffee. I'm ready."

"How'd you get fresh coffee when you look like that?" JJ asked with eyebrows raised.

Emily half snorted, half scoffed, "Excuse me. I look fine. And plus," she looked at the coffee cup, twirling it around in her hand, "Sam gave it to me."

Now that got JJ's attention. "Sam, huh?"

"Yes, Sam," Emily said with a scorching roll of the eyes.

"You two friends now?"

The answer came fast and sharp, "No."

But the qualifying remarks came tumbling just as quickly after. "It was a thank you. Or a peace offering. Or, something. Whatever it was, we're not friends."

JJ leaned back in the chair as she chuckled under her breath. "It wouldn't kill you, you know…being friends with her."

"JJ…" Emily warned, but JJ wasn't even close to being done.

"I mean, I'm friends with her, Derek's friends with her, even Reid's friends with her. I think they got sushi last night together on our way home.

Emily's forehead wrinkled. "Reid did?"

"Derek, also."

And just like that the wrinkles turned into deep creases. Emily spun her chair around and around as if it were a form of pacing. "Of course they did. Is he trying to move in on her already? Because she's practically our boss. He would do that. He's always looking at a new woman as a prospect, a new date, a night out. "

"Emily," JJ tried to interrupt, but the brunette couldn't be stopped.

"She could shut us down if she really wanted, or at least cause a lot of trouble. We'd have to go to court. Or face another evaluation from someone else. We could get reviewed by the board!"

"Emily," JJ whined.

"Doesn't he know how stupid that could be? Doesn't he? You're not allowed to find the boss attractive. You're not allowed to want to get with them. That's the rules. That's the-"

"Emily!" JJ shouted.

Finally, Emily obliged and spun around the face her friend, "Wh-" she began to say, but the rest died in her throat. Because not only was JJ staring at her, Derek was too. And Reid. And Garcia. And…Sam.

"Shit," she muttered as she eyed the crowd that had gathered without her knowledge.

"Who's not allowed to find the boss attractive?" Sam asked while looking between the two women. But both of them were too caught off guard to come up with anything intelligent to say

Garcia's mouth dropped. "Does someone have a crush on Hotch?"

Emily glanced to JJ in uncertainty before looking back to the analyst with a blank stare.

"Ooooh, they totally do. Who is it?" Garcia was practically jumping in place based on how excited she was. Still, Emily remained speechless.

So JJ came to the rescue.

"Well it's not Emily," she said. Emily rolled her eyes because how obvious could she be. JJ, realizing the extent of her mistake, mouthed 'I panicked' to the brunette while they waited to see the rest of the team's reaction….

…which came in the form of chuckling. A crescendo of collective chuckling. From all of them.

"Can you imagine?" Reid laughed as he continued toward the table, pulling out a seat when he got close.

"Yeah. Of all people," Derek added, his shoulders still shaking a bit from the joke.

Relief spread over Emily's face. That is, until she thought through what was going on here. She paused and surveyed the group as the after-effects of the joke began to drift off their face. _Wait. What was the joke?_

"What do you mean of all people?" Emily asked

Derek took a sip of his coffee and leaned back in his chair. He threw out a simple, "you know, because you're gay."

Emily froze and the resulting silence was excruciating.

Derek sat up straighter, put his coffee down as he felt the tension breeze over his skin. "Are you….not?"

Still, nothing from Emily. At this point in time she was about as useful as a statue.

"Technically she never confirmed or denied if she had homosexual tendencies," Reid said before he turned to Emily, "We just deduced it logically using observation. But if that's not accurate then…

"I-" but Emily was drowning in front of this crowd and all the attention on her and there was no way she'd be able to get a coherent sentence out if her life depended on it.

"I don't think this is something we should be focusing on when we have an open case," Sam rushed out. Emily immediately glanced at her, the relief written plainly on her face.

"Sam's right. This is not something to focus on. We just received new information on the most recent victim…" JJ began as she stood up and loaded new pictures on the projector.

Everyone must have agreed with her because the next thing Emily knew they were all sitting down to their seats taking out their pads and pencils as if nothing had happened.

Sam watched as Emily hunched over in her chair, pretending to focus on taking notes from the presentation JJ was giving. She watched her carefully, noticing the heaving of her chest and the fidgeting that she couldn't seem to stop.

When she'd been staring long enough at Emily to notice, the brunette glanced up at her from across the dim room. They shared eye contact that wasn't hostile, or aggressive, or understanding even. It didn't demand any information or ask for attention. It was born purely out of intrigue, out of curiosity, out of necessity.

Sam felt a pull inside of her. She wanted to know whether or not Emily was gay, how the woman felt right now, how she was feeling yesterday, everything. She wanted to know everything.

But another pull was there too. One that told her that Emily needed her, in this moment, to pretend as if she hadn't heard what she was saying about attraction and bosses and her. Emily needed her to breeze over the fact that the woman sounded as if she were on a jealous rampage.

And Sam decided right then and there, while they continued to map each other's face patiently, that she would. If there was one thing she was going to do right with Emily Prentiss, it would be to pretend for her right now.


End file.
